Omnia Vincit Phallus

Killough follows up his Mark Zuckerberg Has a Small Dickpost with more about how tits and ass drive SEO.

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by James Killough

I’m trying to make this follow-up post about massive cock a little classier with a title in Latin, which means “phallus conquers all,” a twist on the popular, hope-filled gay armband tattoo “omnia vincit amor,” or love conquers all.

Given what has happened in the past few days with hits to our site since the Big Penis Bookpost, as a content company we have to comment on the effect salacious text and images have on internet traffic. This is also an excellent opportunity for us to post more images from the Taschen books. Out of consideration for our token Str8, the beleaguered Eric Baker, whom I imagine is sitting there in Jersey with his head in his hands regretting his association with the feral, smut-minded Gheys of PFC, we are including images from the Big Book of Breasts as well:

Just a quick tangent: I have been asked by a few readers why I sometimes use “Ghey” and other times “gay.” Ghey is the noun, gay is the adjective; e.g., I am a Ghey who makes outrageously gay statements. And henceforth, “Str8” is the noun, “straight” the adjective. There is no rhyme or reason for this; this is my sandbox, my content, I make the rules.

Properly speaking, it wasn’t even Amanda Seyfried’s full breast, just side boob. And very murky side boob, at that.

For those who haven’t been following this blog since the beginning, I first experimented with “racy” content by posting images of Amanda Seyfried’s breasts, rather innocuous stills grabbed from Atom Egoyan’s soporific Chloe. This caused a wee surge in hits to this site, which as a novice blogger I found thrilling; for a long time, “Amanda Seyfried’s boobs” were the most searched keywords that led people to this site. Although he denies it, it would seem Baker was lured here by the titty-littered crumb trail I was scattering across WordPress. Adding soft porn images to my posts was akin to my nieces testing out bad words to see just how they rate on a badness scale with the adults. I hear that the new Amanda Seyfried’s breasts of my five-year-old niece Uma’s vocabulary is “asshole.”

Then came the Spanking Galliano piece, in which I told a true, highly personal story about the time I caused him to be spanked in Paris. It was fun writing the piece, however I did have reservations about revealing so much in a blog any internet stranger could read. But I the pros outweighed the cautiousness: it was topical; I’d had a personal experience I didn’t mind sharing at dinner parties with semi-strangers, so there was no point holding back with people literate enough to wade through this blog; I was never going to work with him, anyway. A producer of mine on Hatter read it and thought it was audacious, and also wondered if I would be sued. Seeing as she’s a lawyer, that caused a momentary flutter of panic, but the rules of defamation are that, even if he were to care enough about this story floating out there on the blogosphere to file a lawsuit, Galliano would have to prove I was lying, and he can’t.

The images started to get more complex with this Photoshopped version of Galliano as a Nazi. And people began commenting on the zinger-captions, as well.

The Galliano piece caused a surge of hits to the PFC blog on a par with what is going on now: a three hundred percent increase in traffic (actually, it was more than that), prompted not just by massive cock, but by the thematic tie-in with Mark Zuckerberg via unwarranted, libelous speculation about how hung he is, and how he tried to fist Google up the ass by hiring bloggers to smear them. The Galliano traffic tsunami was due mainly to the post being picked up by Diane Pernet. Then our stats flattened out.

As we coasted along, the addition of James Tuttle, who has a sizable following, as a contributor has meant a spike in hits in the middle of the week, which then tapers off over the weekend. Lest we forget the redoubtably comical Mama Gaddafi from the House of Gaddafi: the Tyrant of Libya was transformed through zinger-captions into an alternately radical feminist poet and playwright, or disgruntled black drag queen who keeps being rejected by her sister trannies for her bad taste. As you can see from the Top Stories section to the right of this column, Mama keeps one of the posts she is featured in fresh over two months after it was published.

We have since formed an alliance of sorts with Diane, and I now write a serialized fiction piece for her that I try to get in once a week, but which was skipped this week because I am currently traveling and working in India, and it’s all I can do to keep the PFC stories going.

Big dick. Big breasts. All good. (Photo Taschen.com)

Two weeks ago, Matthew Morrison from Glee published his workout routine with trainer Bernardo Coppola. Tuttle and I both work out at the same gym in Hollywood where Coppola trains Morrison, and Coppola has been Tuttle’s trainer. I had posted a picture of Bernardo in a story at the start of this blog, which had in the zinger-caption, “despite his claims, Bernardo is not related to Sofia,” basically calling the guy a liar. What had happened was, before I knew he was a friend of Tuttle’s or even a regular trainer at Gold’s Gym, I met Bernardo at a food demo for his nutrition company, asked him if he was related to Francis Ford and Sofia, to which he replied, “a second cousin.” And then I happened to find out this probably wasn’t true.

So, one of the hottest stars in the whole wild TV world publishes his training routine on a Glee fan forum, people Google Bernardo, and the second image that comes up is linked to this blog. This caused another spike in hits. I felt badly because I do see Bernardo almost every day, and he is fitter than I am, as tall as I am, younger than I am, and runs a training course called “boot camp.” As I’ve said before, I am highly competitive, as long as the competition is rigged my way. I don’t care if Galliano has read the spanking story and is upset with me; he’s much smaller that I am, a boozy middle-aged botoxed troll. Even if he were drunk and high enough to assault me one night, I’d smack the collagen right out of his lips with a single swipe. Bernardo Coppola is another matter. If he came after me, I’d run away like a hyena bitch, cower in the corner and blubber, “Please, don’t hit me! I’ll take the post down!”

Lessons about content: be audacious, be honest, be topical, be connected to other blogs/sites.

Two more images each from the Taschen books. Image on the right should be entitled “Nine Inch Itch.”

Seeing as so many visitors to this site are interested in the Taschen books (yeah, right), some helpful info: the new 3D version with glasses is $39.99, and the original books are $59.99, and they do make nifty, giggle-inducing gifts. I’m not sure how the pricing works, seeing as 3D movies are always more expensive than normal 2D, but who can ever untangle the nefarious, convoluted minds of art book publishers? The books can be bought/ordered through the usual suspects, provided they are still in business, or directly from Taschen.com.

I’m not being lazy, just the contrary, but I have to cut this post short, which is probably a relief for those who think I should keep it brief and snappy to begin with. I’ve got a twelve-hour shoot ahead of me today, I’ve got such raging Delhi Belly I can barely stand, or be more than ten yards away from a toilet, but I still want to get to the gym before I go to the set.

I'm all for staying with the entertainment/arts angle. We're in L.A., after all. Well, two-thirds of us are but we're all involved in entertainment at some level. As for sticking to the mantra, when faced with a choice of taste-level or appropriateness in humor, "What would Chelsea do?," I fear I've let the side down a bit. I love using the word "retarded" in many ways but was presented a case by one of our celebrity readers (Academy Award nominee, no less!) that this was offensive to people with learning disabilities and that I was intelligent enough to find a different way of expressing myself. I think Chelsea might have said, "Go fuck yourself" and continued saying "retarded" in every fourth sentence but I'm not sure. For my part, I'm going to cool it until I find that she's not reading to blog any more.
Isn't it interesting that we three are the only ones to comment on a post written about our blog on a blog that only we three write for? Don't we have email?

I'm all for being mysterious and having people wonder things about me (I'm like Prince when he sings "Controversy"), but I SWEAR I DID NOT SURF IN HERE TO SEE AMANDA SEYFRIED'S BOOBS that day a few months ago. Though I do enjoy them quite a bit, at least in pictures (Amanda has not seen fit to contact me in response to any of this, so I can't vouch for her boobs in person).
Now would be a good time to point out that I, Eric J Baker, stupidly picked the wordpress handle "old ancestor," not knowing I'd one day be writing Sunday columns for PFC and would be tagged in every story that features penis photos, forcing me to leave comments that you, the reader, don't know are from me.
I'd also like to point out that I am no longer beleaguered. James has helped me see the error of my ways through effective persuasion and consensus building, which are attributes of a leader. Decorate my posts with whatever floats your boat.
My fast-growing sense of saying the right things to the right people tells me now is a good time to point out that, in addition to wonderful titles on breasts and dicks, Taschen carries a fantastic array of art books, many of which I own. They're actually very readable and always the perfect length (the art books, we're talking about, not penises), which is more than I can say for a lot of art books.
Though, from a tactile and sexual perspective, I prefer women's breasts to a men's dicks, I expect that the dick lends itself to 3D better. It's narrow and long and can be represented actual size. Plus it features a bonus 3D effect that I can't mention in a family blog like this one.

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